


the real thing

by SailorChibi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Caregiver Bucky Barnes, Age Play Caregiver Steve Rogers, Age Play Little Tony Stark, Age play caregiver Phil Coulson, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Between Avengers (2012) and Thor: The Dark World, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Caregiver Bucky Barnes, Caregiver Phil Coulson, Caregiver Steve Rogers, Carrying, Classifications, Crying, Diapers, Gen, Headspace, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Infantilism, Little Clint Barton, Little Headspace, NaNoWriMo 2020, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pacifiers, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sick Character, Sick Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, age play classifications, age play headspace, age play little Clint Barton, alternate universe - littles are known, bottles, daddy Steve Rogers, daddy bucky barnes, little Tony Stark, non sexual age play, non sexual infantilism, slow burn age play, slow burn angst with a happy ending, what can i say it takes tony a long time to come around to his feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: Tony Stark has spent his whole life hiding two facts: the fact that he's a Little, and the fact that his soulmates are Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.Following the Battle of New York, when first Steve, Bruce Natasha, and Clint move into the tower and then none other than Bucky Barnes shows up, those two facts become a lot harder to hide.And then Tony realizes... maybe he doesn't have to hide them at all.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 259
Kudos: 1316





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my NaNo this year. It's clocking in at about 52,000 words right now and there is still a little ways to go, but I feel comfortable beginning to post it now. It's _really_ slow burn (some characters take a while to show up, even) so if you're looking for something where they jump right into age play, this isn't it.

“I’m telling you, Maria. He’s seven years old and he’s still wetting the bed. It’s not right.”

“Tony is eight, Howard.”

“Do you think that makes it any better?! He’s turning into one of those _freaks_! I won’t have it!”

“What are you going to do? Tony is our son! Your _only_ son.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Howard –”

The rest of the conversation was cut off when the door suddenly closed. Tony barely pulled back quick enough to avoid having his nose caught. He blinked at the door, then slowly looked up to meet the familiar face that was staring down at him.

“Young Master, you shouldn’t be listening to your parent’s private conversations,” Jarvis told him. “Come along. It’s time for your bath.”

Normally Tony would have put up a fuss about bath time; he didn’t today, too preoccupied with what he’d just heard. He allowed Jarvis to pick him up and automatically looped his legs around Jarvis’s waist, leaning his head on Jarvis’s shoulder. It was comfortable. Familiar. Jarvis’s arm around his waist and the hand under his butt were both firm. Jarvis would never allow him to fall.

“Am I a freak?” Tony asked as they climbed the stairs.

Jarvis stopped short. “What? Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Father said,” Tony said, looking over Jarvis’s shoulder at the floor. It was very far away, but he knew that Jarvis would never drop him.

Most eght-year-old boys were too big to be carried, but Tony was small for his age. Howard didn’t like that about him. He was always saying that Tony needed to eat more and do more so that he’d grow up big and strong. Maria always looked over Tony’s head like Tony didn’t exist at those moments.

Jarvis didn’t say anything for a moment.

Tony bit his lip and swallowed, blinking rapidly to try to hold back the tears.

Howard didn’t like the way that Tony cried so easily, either.

“You’re not a freak,” Jarvis said at last, and his voice was low and angry but filled with conviction. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you.”

“Yeah, there is. Most kids aren’t like me,” Tony said, but only once he was sure he could say it without crying. “Jarvis? Why am I like this?”

Jarvis sighed and resumed climbing the stairs. He didn’t say another word until they were in the bathroom and the door was securely closed. Then he set Tony down, and Tony looked up at him. There was so much affection in Jarvis’s face, but there was a lot of worry too. It was the expression that he wore when he was going to tell Tony something very serious.

“There are different classifications in the world. Not everyone is the same,” Jarvis said slowly. “Your father, for example, is a Dom. Your mother is a Sub. Their classifications go together.”

“Okay,” Tony said. He’d already known that bit about his parents, though he wasn’t sure he fully understood what that meant. His tutors had touched briefly on classifications, but it was the sort of thing that he’d been told that he didn’t really need to know about until he was older. Right now, he was too anxious to hear the rest of what Jarvis had to say to bother asking any questions.

“But there are other classifications too. No one can know for sure what classification you are until you’re older. You’ll be tested when you’re sixteen,” Jarvis explained. “But… some of the classifications are a little more obvious than others.”

“And I’m one of them,” Tony concluded. He might have been small, but he wasn’t stupid.

“I believe so, and your parents do as well.”

“What am I?” Tony asked quietly. Part of him didn’t want to know, but he was experienced enough with life to know that not wanting to know something didn’t make whatever it was go away. At the very least, if his father hated him for something, then he wanted to know exactly what that something was.

“You’re most likely a Little,” Jarvis said. There was no contempt in his voice, the way there would have been from Tony’s parents. But the quiet sort of sadness was almost worse.

“A Little,” Tony whispered. The word was not unfamiliar to him. On his rare shopping trips with Ana and Jarvis, he had seen some people who looked like grown adults but who acted like children of varying ages. Howard openly scorned those people.

“And probably a young Little,” Jarvis added. He knelt and turned on the water to the bathtub. 

Tony pressed his hands to his jeans. Underneath the denim fabric was a diaper, because his father was right. He lacked the control over his bladder and bowels that most other children his age had long since obtained. He still sucked his thumb and slept with a teddy bear. He loved being carried and being rocked to sleep and having Jarvis read him stories. When he was very tired, he was sloppy with food and drink. Sometimes Ana had to feed him. Once, a few months ago when he was sick, she’d snuck him some juice in a sippy cup.

It was the best juice Tony had ever tasted.

But he couldn’t be that, could he?

He was a Stark.

A Stark _man_ , no less.

Or he would be one day.

He had always thought that he’d grow out of his childish ways, but now he was realizing that maybe he wouldn’t. He had never put himself and Littles together before, which had been stupid on his part. No wonder Howard was so mad. 

You couldn’t change your biology. That was just basic fact. 

But you could _hide_ it.

“It will be alright,” Jarvis said, pulling Tony out of his thoughts. He turned on his heel to smile comfortingly. “Someday, young Master, you’ll meet your soulmate and nothing else will matter.”

“Maybe,” Tony murmured, unconvinced. He didn’t know a lot about soulmates yet either, but he had grown up on the same fairy tales as everyone else. His parents were soulmates. Supposedly a perfectly fated match. Tony had seen their matching soul marks, yet the thought of his father’s drinking and his mother’s ‘friends’ who snuck out of the house late at night were not inspiring.

He couldn’t depend on a soulmate, he decided right then and there.

Tony needed to look out for himself.

“Jarvis, would you help me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Jarvis said with a smile, standing up. He reached out to help Tony remove his clothing, as he did every night. It was a ritual between them. Jarvis would give him a bath, and then he’d dry Tony off, get him ready for bed, and read him a story.

“Not with that. I can do it myself,” Tony said, even though the declaration gave him a little pang in his heart. He didn’t _want_ to give those special moments with Jarvis up.

But he had to.

Jarvis blinked, clearly surprised. “By yourself?”

“Yes. I – I’d like to try a shower tonight,” said Tony.

There was a moment during which Jarvis just looked at him with an expression that was equal parts sadness and understanding, and then Jarvis nodded.

“Of course,” he said quietly, reaching out to turn the faucet off. Then he pulled the plug out of the tub. The water began to drain.

“Do you think I could get away with underwear?” Tony asked, toying with the button on his jeans.

Jarvis sighed. “Probably not yet. But you could try pull-ups. They just won’t absorb as much as your diapers. You would have to be more careful about going to the bathroom regularly.”

Tony pursed his lips. He didn’t really get what other people meant when they said they had to use the bathroom. His body just went without his permission. It had always been like that. Jarvis had told him once that they’d tried to potty train Tony for well over a year before a child psychologist had gently advised them to give up for the time being. Tony didn’t remember much of that time, since he’d been so young, but what he did remember was colored by humiliation and tears (his) and anger and frustration (his parents).

Those feelings stuck with him now.

“I can do it,” he said. He would _have_ to do it. He would wear a watch if he had to and set an alarm to remind himself. 

“Very well,” Jarvis said, and that was one of the things Tony loved most about him. When Tony wanted to try something, Jarvis put all the support that he could behind it.

“And I can put myself to bed,” Tony added. His throat hurt from the huge lump that was forming. But it had to be done. He didn’t want to know what Howard was planning. Whatever it was, it would be far worse than giving up being tucked into bed and the wonderful, secure feeling of being carried.

“Okay,” Jarvis said. “I’ll let you shower, then. You’ll have to use a diaper for the night, but I’ll ask Ana to get some pull-ups tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Tony said stiffly. He wiped his face once the bathroom door had shut behind him, then removed his clothing with trembling hands. 

It was harder than he’d expected to get the water to the right temperature. Jarvis made it look easy, but Tony couldn’t get the water just right. He ended up shivering through a too-cool shower, clumsily washing his body and hair. Soap ran into his eyes and he might have cried a bit from the sting – or maybe it was the frustration of it all, that he had been born this way and had to give up everything that he loved the most before his father intervened.

Whatever the case, Tony eventually climbed out of the shower and patted himself dry. Putting on a diaper was hard too. The sticky bits kept sticking to his fingers or to other places on the diaper, and he ripped two trying to put them on. When he finally got it right, or at least close enough, he stuffed the ruined diapers deep into the garbage and pulled on his pajamas.

There was no sight of Jarvis when Tony eventually left the bathroom, and he made his way to his bedroom alone. Normally, Jarvis would have turned down his bed for him by now. But, clearly sensing what Tony was trying to do, this time his room was still dark and his bed was still fully made. Tony pulled the sheets down and found himself looking at his bear.

His beloved bear, with golden fur and brown eyes.

Tony took that bear and hugged it as tight as he could.

He pressed a kiss to a soft ear.

And then he threw that bear in the garbage.

He climbed into bed and laid there, feeling very little and alone. The exact opposite of how he was supposed to be feeling, considering his grown-up accomplishments tonight. 

It had to be this way.

It would _always_ have to be this way from now on.

He rolled over, pulled the sheets over his head, and cried himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony was twelve when he learned the truth about soulmates. Almost everyone in the world would receive a mark somewhere on their body before the age of twenty. This mark could be a word, a shape, numbers, random lines – just about anything. But it was unique to you and your soulmates.

That’s right.

Soulmate _s_.

Some people, like his parents, only had one soulmate.

But others had more than one.

Tony had devoted a good month to exploring that concept. He didn’t know why, but he found the thought of having more than one soulmate simultaneously fascinating and terrifying. How did people work things out? What happened if two of the soulmates were more compatible than the others? What if there were only three of you, and you were the one left out in the cold?

It was yet more reason not to rely on a soulmate, as far as Tony was concerned. According to everything he read, if he was a Little than that meant that his soulmate should be a Caregiver. But that wasn’t always the way it worked. He could have a Dom and a Sub for soulmates, and that meant he would be the odd man out. He’d run the statistics, and it only left him more convinced that depending on a soulmate to come find you was stupid.

When he was sixteen, the Stark family physician performed the blood test and confirmed that Tony was a Little. A _baby_ , no less. 

It turned out that Howard’s face could achieve new shades of purple out of sheer rage.

Tony preferred not to think about what had happened during the following three days.

But by the end of that week, Howard had greased all of the appropriate palms to insure that information never made it to the light of day. It was high illegal, but the doctor had submitted forged papers to the government and Tony Stark was officially a Dom in the eyes of the world. 

That doctor passed away when Tony was sixteen…

And when he was seventeen, so did his parents.

The very next morning, Tony woke up soaking wet, hung over, and with a brand-new mark on his right shoulder.

“I don’t need this right now,” he said under his breath, staring at the mark through bleary eyes. He stank of urine because he’d forgotten to change his pull-up last night before bed. Which wasn’t surprising, considering that he’d drunk a lot of whiskey last night.

Littles weren’t supposed to have alcohol, but that didn’t matter because Tony was a Dom, right?

He rubbed at his face and turned away, sluggishly climbing into the shower. He washed his hair, face, and body, wishing that the water could wash away the pounding headache and urge to vomit. There was so much to think about now that his parents were gone. Too much. It was dizzying. 

“My soulmate,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. Thank god Howard was dead. Otherwise, Tony would’ve suffered through Howard scouring the Earth until he found Tony’s soulmate(s) and gave them enough money to both stay quiet and away form Tony for the rest of forever. 

He wasn’t sure how Maria would’ve acted. She had grown increasingly distant the older that Tony got. Her eyes had started to gloss over him like he was nothing more than another tacky decoration that was too expensive to throw out. When Howard yelled or screamed or worse, it was like she didn’t want to pay attention to what was happening. Not that Tony could really blame her for that: life was easier when Howard had a different target, after all.

Tony sighed and shut off the shower. His skin prickled from the gust of cold air. He stood there for a moment, just staring at a droplet of water slowly sliding down the tiles.

Stark Industries would need a new CEO. Technically, Tony was too young. That’s where Obadiah Stane came in. He’d be acting in Tony’s place for the next four years. Tony was going to have to fast-track his university education even more so than he already was, because he’d need as much time as possible to learn the ins and outs of the business. Howard had held much of S.I.’s inner workings close to the vest.

The thought of what the next few years were going to be like bowed his shoulders, and he clenched his hands into fists. As hard as life had been with Howard and Maria, it was going to be even worse without them. For a moment, Tony _hated_ his parents with a burning passion.

But as quickly as those emotions came, they fled. Numbly, he climbed out of the shower and dried himself off. Only then did he take another look at the mirror, and at the mark on his shoulder.

It wasn’t a word or even a defined picture, but a circle with a series of lines. Tony traced the loops and whorls in silence; he was pretty sure he spotted a triangle and what might have been a star, but he lost both shapes when the lines doubled back on themselves. The solid black lines weren’t easy to follow, which at least meant that it would be hard to replicate if anyone saw it.

Jarvis had always told him that he would need to keep his soul mark hidden when it showed up. Too many people would want to take advantage of being Tony Stark’s soulmate; the last thing Tony needed was dealing with a bunch of tattooed idiots who thought that they could be the Sub to his supposed Dom. 

The thought of Jarvis made Tony’s throat tighten with grief, and he turned away from the mark. He didn’t need to tell anyone that it had shown up. The only person he wanted to tell had died almost four years ago. 

Still, even as he grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist, something about the mark niggled at his mind. It felt familiar in a way that he couldn’t properly express. Tony paused, one hand on the door, and glanced back in the mirror. 

The mark couldn’t have been bigger than a baseball. 

There was nothing special about it. Not really. 

No bright colors, no words, no pictures.

It was just…

A mark.

He shook his head and opened the door, sighing when he saw the state of his bed. Right.

For the next several minutes, he preoccupied himself with cleaning up his bed. His sheets went into a garbage bag to be safely disposed of away from the tower – god forbid some enterprising maid start to wonder why there were urine-soaked sheets in the laundry bin. He soaked up the piss on the plastic mattress protector and then dragged it into the bathroom to further rinse it off. That was a pain, but at least now he didn’t need to come up with an excuse to buy a new mattress.

Finally, thoroughly exhausted, Tony sank down on the edge of his mattress. He was still naked; he’d pissed in the shower, so he knew he had a few minutes before he needed to worry about a pull-up. 

He stared at the floor and wiggled his bare feet into the carpet.

What was he supposed to do now?

There was no one in the mansion today except for Tony and the help, but he didn’t even know any of them. After Jarvis died, Tony lost all interest in knowing any of the people who worked for his parents. Obie would be out and about, making nice with the media and reassuring the public that Stark Industries would keep going even in the face of this ‘tragedy’ (Obie’s word, not Tony’s).

Tony had the week off classes, but next week he’d have to go back to MIT. He would have to go back. Back to his small private room. Back to the classmates who made fun of him because he was small. Back to the knowing smirks that Tiberius kept shooting him. Back to the endless work and the biased professors and the fact that everyone there thought he was a joke.

His eyes burned.

No.

He was _not_ going to cry.

Neither of his parents deserved his tears.

He jammed his palms into his eyes and took several deep breaths, fighting back the urge to cry. 

He hadn’t cried since –

Well, that didn’t bear thinking about right now.

When he was a little more under control, he lowered his hands and got up. He’d – he’d get dressed and then go down to his father’s workshop, he decided. Howard couldn’t stop him now, could he? Couldn’t kick him out or threaten him. This was all Tony’s now, so Tony deserved to know what was in there.

He opened his closet and shoved aside all of his suits, looking for something comfortable to wear. His eyes landed on an old t-shirt. Blue, fraying, with a picture of –

Of…

“Oh shit,” Tony breathed.

Captain America’s shield.

Suddenly he remembered where he’d seen that soul mark before. 

The soul mark of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was the thing of legends. It turned a simple war story of lost friends into something that resonated with everyone who heard it, because who wanted to go on after they lost a soulmate? Many people theorized that, after the loss of Barnes from the train, Rogers had been bittersweetly resigned about his own death. 

There had been many, many theories as to what their soul mark looked like. The army had refused to release that personal information. A lot of people thought that it somehow resembled Captain America’s shield, but honestly the theories were endless. Dozens and dozens of images had been put forth, with no one official ever confirming nor denying them.

Tony had never needed to wonder.

Because Howard knew what their soul mark looked like.

And as a result, so did Tony.

He remembered coming across it in one of Howard’s old journals as a child. He’d stared at that mark for _hours_ , trying to glean something – anything – from it. That was before he’d grown to hate Captain America for being everything to Howard that Tony could never be, and for being the man against which Tony was constantly measured and found lacking. He had done everything he could to forget about his once cherished hero, including that damned soul mark.

Now that very mark was imprinted upon his skin.


	3. Chapter 3

It changed nothing. Tony held onto that belief through his late teens and twenties. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were dead, and, once Tony had put the finishing touches on his coding, one of the first things he had JARVIS do was scour the world for any mentions of the soul mark. It was a search that he had JARVIS keep on doing regularly as the internet became more of a thing.

But JARVIS never came back with anything other than what Tony already knew, which was that no one else had that soul mark. Even with the rise of identification sites, where you could upload pictures of your mark to find your match, there was nothing. So, it just reinforced what Tony had already known. There was no soulmate out there for him. He was alone and he always would be. It was on him to take care of himself, and to make sure that no one _ever_ found out the truth.

He told no one, not even Obie or Rhodey, about his classification. He let everyone think that he was a Dom, just the way his father wanted, and did whatever he could to foster the general public’s belief that Tony Stark was your stereotypical arrogant, self-obsessed, narcistic billionaire. 

He made sure that he was seen with a drink in his hand at every opportunity; most of the time he swapped the alcohol out for apple juice, because alcohol had a very negative effect on Littles – he had learned his lesson with that one the morning after his parents died.

He made sure that he took a ton of men and women home with him. He didn’t have sex with anyone, of course. But that was why he only took home people who were too trashed to know otherwise. Since no one wanted to be the sole person that _the_ Tony Stark didn’t have sex with, they all convinced themselves that they’d had a wonderfully sexy time. Tony’s status as a sex symbol skyrocketed.

It was probably a little overkill to digitally edit himself into a sex video and have it “leaked”, but Tony had never done anything by half measures and now wasn’t the start.

Everything was going well until Afghanistan.

Tony Stark spent his 30th birthday in a cave in the desert.

Yinsen became the sixth person after Howard, Maria, Jarvis, Ana, and the doctor to know about his classification. Tony didn’t tell him, of course, but Yinsen wasn’t stupid and he was a doctor beside. He recognized the signs fairly quickly, though he didn’t bring it up right away.

But one night, when they were working on the suit, Yinsen said quietly, “You are a Little.”

Tony’s hands stilled. The words cut deep, almost as deep as the battery in his chest. 

“Why are you not at home with a caregiver?” Yinsen wanted to know. He set down his tools to look at Tony more intently.

“I don’t have one,” Tony said finally. 

“Why not?”

It was a simple question, but the answer was so complicated. He didn’t want to go into his soul mark and what that represented. He held the secret about his soul mark as closely to his chest as that of his classification. 

“In my culture, Littles are not permitted to work,” Yinsen continued. “They don’t have an adult headspace… but you do.”

“I do,” Tony said shortly. He wasn’t sure what Howard would’ve done if Tony had been one of those Littles who remained in their headspace all the time, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. 

“How much of your life is a lie?” Yinsen asked.

Again, Tony said nothing.

But Yinsen nodded knowingly as though they had spoken.

The subject wasn’t brought up again until they were escaping. Tony bent over Yinsen’s dying body, grief and pain lodging thick in his throat. Yinsen smiled up at him and grasped Tony’s hands.

“Don’t waste your life,” he said softly. “Your real self… you should share it with people you can trust.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Tony said. It was the truth. Not like that. Not even Rhodey or Pepper.

“You trusted me,” Yinsen said, and then he died before Tony could even begin to collect an argument.

Through the trip to the hospital and leaving against medical advice, to Stane’s betrayal, to the creation of a new element, to the subsequent invasion of Earth and the creation of the Avengers team – those words stuck with Tony. He couldn’t shake them, and he didn’t understand why. He was pretty sure that Yinsen had been referring to Tony’s soulmate, but that was a laughable idea.

Steve Rogers was alive, but he didn’t like Tony.

And even if he _did_ like Tony, it didn’t matter.

Not even Howard had known for sure what classification Rogers was, but Howard seemed to think that Rogers was a Dom and Tony had to agree with that assessment. There was just something about the way that Rogers postured and tried to take control of the situation. It practically screamed Dom. Based on how Fury was treating him, Fury agreed with that assessment. 

He wondered if that meant Barnes had been a Sub. That seemed unlikely, considering that even now the military in general was very unwelcoming to Subs, Littles, or Pets. It would’ve been really hard for Barnes to get into the army back in the 1940’s with that classification, and by all accounts Barnes had been accepted pretty much immediately. 

Maybe he was a Baseline? There were a few people out there with no classification. Or maybe he was another Dom. Rogers and Barnes would hardly be the first pair of soulmates with the same classification – though usually in those cases, there was at least one more soulmate with an opposing classification to balance them out. That was where Tony _should_ have come in, but of course fate had conspired to fuck his life up as per usual.

Then again, that was probably for the best. Going down that route was heart break waiting to happen. Rogers and Barnes were the quintessential love story. No room for Tony in there.

He rubbed his face and sighed wearily, trying to ignore a building headache. It had only been two days since the Battle of New York and Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than five minutes to himself. That wasn’t even enough time to go down into his headspace.

“Sir, it would appear that Director Fury is trying to contact you.”

Tony dropped his chin to his chest and groaned.

“Shall I divert him?” JARVIS asked. “You had two hours reserved for private time.”

“Put him through,” Tony mumbled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t want him showing up here,” Tony said, forcing himself to straighten up. The night after Fury snuck into his house for the first time, he had bad nightmares for a week straight over the thought of Fury having snooped where he wasn’t supposed to and found out something he wasn’t supposed to.

A holograph screen formed in front of him. Tony leaned back in his chair and casually propped a foot up on the edge of the table. It was an uncomfortable position that made his ribs ache, but Fury didn’t need to know that. The last thing he did was paste on a cocky smirk seconds before Fury flashed on screen.

Judging by the way Fury’s annoyed expression deepened, the smirk worked.

“Stark,” Fury said.

“Nick,” Tony said with artificial cheer. “To what do I owe the occasion? I’m so happy our relationship has graduated to the point where you contact me on the phone instead of sending an agent to sneak into my tower.”

Fury just rolled his eyes. “Your tower still has ample rooms in it, yes?”

Tony’s smile faded slightly. Yeah, it did. The top handful of floors had been destroyed, and he was going to have to have them rebuilt. Not to mention, he was going to have to replace a lot of his own things. In between helping out around the city and dealing with Stark Industries, he hadn’t had much of a chance to go see what had survived intact, but he was guessing the answer was ‘not much’.

“That depends on why you’re asking,” Tony said carefully. He was staying in one of the guest suites right now, but there was still half a dozen empty on the two floors below him. But he didn’t relish the thought of living with SHIELD agents either.

“I want you to house the Avengers,” Fury said bluntly.

Tony blinked at him.

“With the helicarrier being damaged, I don’t have time for them to be underfoot right now. Rogers is destroying the training room and half my agents flinch whenever Barton walks by.” Fury’s jaw visibly ticked. “Romanov tried to shoot someone this morning for that.”

“That’s kind of funny,” Tony observed, putting his foot down and allowing himself to sit up. He hoped it looked like a casual move, and not something he did to ease the way his ribs were screaming.

“It’s really not,” Fury said. “You have the space. Will you take them?”

“Gee, Nick, I’d really love to, but I’m just a temporary consultant,” Tony said. “I thought my services ended after the battle, so…” He shrugged his shoulders.

Fury looked very much like _he_ wanted to shoot someone. “Fine. You’re upgraded to full consultant status for the Avengers. SHIELD will pay everything for them; you can have us invoiced. I literally just need you to give them a roof to sleep under for now.”

It wasn’t what Tony wanted. He wanted to be a full member, not a consultant. But he decided against pushing his luck for the time being. This could be an opening and he didn’t want to lose it.

So, he nodded. “Alright, fine. Send them my way.”

“They’ll be there within the hour,” Fury said, and promptly hung up.

“Rude,” Tony muttered at the screen, though he wasn’t surprised. Fury looked pretty stressed out. He supposed that a lot of very unhappy people had been knocking on Fury’s door.

He rested his chin on his hand for a moment, thinking. This was going to be interesting. Neither Rogers nor Romanov liked Tony much. In fact, he’d so far as to say that Romanov flat-out hated him. He wasn’t so sure about Barton, having never met the man before now, but it was probably safe to guess that Barton would be influenced by Romanov and wouldn’t like him much either.

Then there was the question of their classifications. Rogers was a Dom, but what about Barton and Romanov? They were question marks, and no amount of peeking into SHIELD’s systems had yielded what Tony wanted to know.

Either way, Tony was going to have to be _way_ more careful with those two around. There was no doubt in his mind that Romanov, at least, would be trying to snoop through everything. He had just set himself up for weeks, if not months, of additional stress. Exactly what he _didn’t_ need right now.

“Why do I do this to myself?” he mumbled, getting up.

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” JARVIS said sassily, and Tony pouted.

“Shut up.”


	4. Chapter 4

For the first little while, Tony didn’t see any of the others. He wasn’t avoiding them, thank you very much JARVIS, but there was a lot of work to be done and it was really easy to get sucked into things. So actually, Tony kind of forgot all about them in the midst of answering emails, reallocating money, and many, _many_ conversations with Pepper and the board of S.I.

It was well after sunrise before JARVIS forcibly shut the systems down on him and refused to let him back in until Tony got some sleep. Tony could’ve hacked his way in, but the pounding headache in his temples told him it might be better to listen to his A.I. without too much fuss for once. The fact that Pepper had gone to bed half an hour ago and told him not to contact her for at least six hours helped.

He shoved himself away from his desk and stood, swaying slightly, to make his way out of his workshop. JARVIS opened the elevator doors for him and took him upstairs. Tony braced himself against the wall of the elevator, trying not to think about all the emails and whatnot that would be waiting for him later. He was expecting to see the guest floor he was staying on when the elevator doors reopened.

Instead, the doors swished open and a delicious smell wafted in.

Tony blinked.

Food.

His stomach growled.

He poked his head out of the elevator, belatedly realizing that he could hear voices. The television was playing, but no one was around to watch it. Tony stared at the television for a moment, trying in vain to put two and two together, before Steve Rogers walked out of the kitchen holding a plate of pizza. Rogers jumped when he saw Tony, nearly dropping the plate – which was fair, because Tony almost had a heart attack.

“Tony!” Rogers said, startled. “You’re here!”

“This is my tower,” Tony said, realizing that the delicious smell had been pizza – and that he hadn’t been there to welcome Rogers, Romanov, or Barton when they arrived. Shit. Had JARVIS even told him about their arrival? They probably thought even less of him now…

“I know,” Rogers said, drawing Tony’s attention back to him; he looked faintly embarrassed. “I just meant – um, JARVIS said that you were hard at work and that you shouldn’t be disturbed, so I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I was busy,” Tony said vaguely, not wanting to get into it. “Did you guys find everything you needed?”

Rogers nodded slowly. “Yeah… JARVIS said we pretty much had the run of this floor and the one below us. If that’s okay with you?” He gave Tony an uncertain look, and it belatedly occurred to Tony that Rogers was feeling as awkward about moving in as Tony felt about them staying here.

“You can listen to JARVIS. He pretty much runs the place,” said Tony, backing up a step. He didn’t know why JARVIS had brought him to this floor when he was this exhausted, but he was going to be having a very strongly worded conversation with his A.I. later on. He was too tired for this shit.

“Wait!” Rogers said, taking a step forward. “I – can we talk?”

Tony _almost_ said no. He was exhausted, his head was pounding, his body was one solid ache from that very long fall before he’d been caught by a Hulk, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been to the bathroom, which meant there was a very big risk of wetting himself right here in front of Rogers. Now was not the time for him to get into a serious conversation, much less a serious conversation that could easily devolve into a fight.

But the earnest expression on Rogers’s face held him in place.

Rogers seemed to take Tony’s silence as an invitation, because he said, “I wanted to, um, I think we got off on the wrong foot. That’s probably my fault. Things have been really weird since I woke up, and I’m still trying to adjust to the future. Seeing you was like seeing your dad, and –”

“I am _not_ my father,” Tony said, more sharply than he’d intended.

That was probably a rude thing to say to a guy who had literally lost everything. No one could really blame Rogers for trying to hold on to what little remnants of the past that he could find. But if he was trying to cling to similarities between Tony or Howard, or worse yet expecting Tony to act like Howard, there was no way in hell that was going to happen, and Tony felt it was best to make that clear upfront.

“I know,” Rogers said quietly, which surprised Tony.

“You know?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yeah. And honestly, I don’t really want you to be,” Rogers said. “I was already thinking that before Clint pointed out to me that I was being rude by judging you against your dad and the rumors I’ve heard. He told me I should apologize.”

Tony let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “The rumors.” He’d never really thought that those rumors might come back to bite him in the ass, but here they were. But much to his surprise, rather than start castigating Tony about all of said rumors, Rogers gave him a tentative smile.

“So I hoped that we could start over again. We’re going to be teammates, after all.” He switched the plate to his opposite hand and extended his hand towards Tony. “Steve Rogers. Good to meet you.”

This conversation officially had Tony lost. He had no idea how Rogers had gone from hating Tony to deciding that he shouldn’t be measuring Tony up against Howard or judging him based on Tony’s reputation. It was the complete opposite of what Tony had been expecting, and so he had no idea how to react. He just stood there, staring at Rogers’s outstretched hand, in dumbfounded silence.

Rogers’s smile started to wilt. “No?”

“Uh, yes!” Tony said, snapping out of his daze. “Sorry, I haven’t slept in like – I don’t even know. Yes. Tony Stark.” He shuffled closer and gingerly put his hand into Rogers’s – into Steve’s.

He didn’t know what he was expecting.

Fireworks, maybe?

They were soulmates, after all.

Steve’s hand was big and unexpectedly smooth. Tony stared at their hands as they shook. He’d never thought of his own hands as particularly small, yet Steve’s hand dwarfed his.

But it was just a handshake.

“I’m glad,” Steve said. He had a dimple in his right cheek when he smiled. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to talk to you since we got here.”

“Sorry,” Tony said quietly. “I should’ve kept better track of the time.”

“No! I didn’t mean that as a slight against you. Natasha told me a little bit about how busy you are,” Steve said quickly, looking horrified. “I just meant – I wanted to check and make sure that you’re okay. You and the Hulk hit the ground really hard. I know you had that fancy suit, but… you were still human underneath…” He visibly looked Tony over from head to toe, eyebrows crinkling in concern.

“I’m fine,” Tony said automatically, dropping his gaze to where their hands were still joined.

He should let go.

Why hadn’t Steve let go?

“Right. That’s good,” Steve said, and like he’d heard Tony’s thoughts, he let go of Tony’s hand. 

Tony immediately felt disappointed.

His hand felt cold.

“We just ordered a pizza. Did you want some?” Steve asked, looking at him expectantly.

“I should really go to bed,” Tony said reluctantly. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, yet that would almost certainly be the smart choice…

“Sir, you haven’t eaten in almost eighteen hours,” JARVIS spoke up.

“What?” Steve’s smile quickly changed to shock. “Tony, you must be starving! Come on, there’s plenty of pizza.” He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, just like he had during the explosion on the helicarrier when he’d helped Tony to his feet. 

Tony should have shrugged that hand off because it was uncomfortably close to his soul mark, but he didn’t.

He allowed Steve to usher him into the kitchen, which was mercifully empty of spies. Tony quickly found himself sitting at the table with a plate in front of him. Steve put a slice of pizza on the plate and then sat down across from Tony with his own plate. Tony looked at Steve, looked at the pizza, and wondered if it would be churlish to refuse.

“Do you not like pizza?” Steve asked, tensing as though he was ready to jump up and make something else for Tony if Tony said no.

“It’s great,” Tony said, picking up the slice and cramming some of it into his mouth. Whereupon he discovered, much to his pleasure, that the pizza actually _was_ good. The first bite reminded him of the fact that it really had been a long time since he’d eaten, and he quickly took a couple more bites.

“Good,” Steve said with satisfaction. “I have to admit, pizza is one of those things that has really improved. I couldn’t believe how many topping choices there were.”

“People will put anything on pizza,” Tony told him. It was weird to be sitting here sharing a meal with Steve Rogers. But it couldn’t hurt, could it?

Steve didn’t need to know that they were soulmates.

He didn’t need to know that Tony was a Little.

Nothing had to change, Tony decided. He wanted to be an Avenger more than anything else right now, so if this was one of those things he’d have to bear in order to be an Avenger, so be it. He’d just have to be even more careful than before since he wasn’t used to sharing his space.

They could be teammates.

Just nothing else.

That was fine.

It was all fine.


	5. Chapter 5

“Sir, wake up!”

Tony jerked awake with the sound of his own screams ringing through his ears. The darkness of the room was initially terrifying, and he shrank back with a raw gasp; the lights immediately brightened, dispelling the shadows, and proving to him once and for all that he was not falling through space. In spite of that, Tony found himself grabbing at the sheets to find something to hold onto.

His soaked sheets.

“Fuck,” Tony muttered, letting his head hang. He placed a hand against the arc reactor, then shifted his palm to his bare chest. His heart was _racing_ from adrenaline. It was a good thing the arc reactor was functioning, or otherwise he probably would have had a heart attack.

“Are you okay, Sir?” JARVIS asked. “You were having a nightmare.”

“I’m fine.” 

That was a flat-out lie and both Tony and JARVIS knew it.

“Shall I call someone? Colonel Rhodes, Ms. Potts, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS asked.

“No,” Tony snapped. He took a couple of deep breaths and then shook his head, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream.

He’d been falling… falling through space. The portal had closed beneath him and he hadn’t made it through in time, yet he hadn’t died either. He’d just… fallen.

He shuddered. At the time, he hadn’t known what was scarier: the sight of all that fathomless, empty space or the huge ships waiting to attack Earth. Now, he knew. You could fight the enemy that all of those ships had held. The Avengers _had_ fought those enemies, and they’d won. But space? A portal? Falling? Those weren’t things that you could fight against.

“Sir,” JARVIS said, very quietly.

“I said no,” Tony said, pulling the covers back. His tank top was soaked through with sweat; the nightmare had felt like it lasted for days but had obviously only lasted long enough for him to sweat and piss. His sheets were soaked with urine.

He sighed at himself. Sometimes, if he didn’t drink much after dinner and made sure to piss about five times before he went to bed, he could make it through the night in a pull-up. He’d been tired tonight, so he’d neglected to take the time to put a diaper on. He was paying for that decision now with the clean-up that he had to do.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” he said under his breath, crawling to the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face for a moment, looking at the sorry state of his bed. Between the nightmare and this mess, the urge to sit down and cry for a little while was overwhelming to the point where Tony had to blink rapidly to hold back tears.

He _hated_ being a Little sometimes.

He really, really hated it.

Of course, for most Littles, this was where a Caregiver would come in. Tony let himself dream for a few seconds of being able to cry it out while a Caregiver held him and soothed him. Let himself dream of being given a warm bath and redressed in a dry diaper and pajamas. Let himself dream of being laid to sleep in a clean, dry bed and tucked in with a stuffed toy.

But that wasn’t reality.

Reality was Tony stripping his bed and hiding the sheets in a trash bag in his closet to later be tossed out in a dumpster somewhere that was unrelated to the tower. 

Reality was Tony washing off the plastic mattress protector and laying it on the balcony to dry.

Reality was Tony taking off his clothing and adding them to the trash bag before he jumped into a two-minute shower.

Reality was Tony pulling on another pair of pull-ups.

He couldn’t risk a diaper. Not right now. Diapers had the tendency to send him deep into his headspace, and that wasn’t something Tony had the luxury of doing right now. There was too much to do, and now he had to factor in Steve, Barton, and Romanov. If one of them dropped by to visit or wanted to see him while he was in his headspace – Tony shuddered again at the thought.

So, a pull-up would have to do. And not even the kind of pull-up he desperately wanted. No, in his early twenties Tony had put his brain to good use and designed a new kind of fabric that was absorbent, but which looked like cotton. It meant he could wear a pull-up that looked exactly like a pair of boxer-briefs, just on the off chance anyone got a look at him without pants on.

The unfortunate part was that the pull-ups he’d designed weren’t nearly as absorbent as a normal pull-up, and definitely not as absorbent as a diaper. He really should have known better before going to bed. But between exhaustion and paranoia, he’d hoped he would be okay.

“Sir, may I just point out that you haven’t been in your headspace since before you went to –”

“No, you may not just point out anything,” Tony said, cutting JARVIS off as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

He already knew what JARVIS was going to say.

He hadn’t been in his headspace since before he went to Afghanistan.

That wasn’t good. Littles could only ignore biology for so long. It was kind of the same for all the classifications. Biology always snuck up on you eventually. In Tony’s case, it probably meant that at some point he was going to have a crying fit that would lead to him being totally useless for a week or so. He’d probably spend the whole time crying and sucking his thumb, because if his adult headspace was struggling with the trauma than his Little headspace was going to be a shitshow.

“I just don’t have the time right now, J,” Tony said, softening his tone a bit. None of this was JARVIS’s fault, and in fact JARVIS was the only one that Tony could trust wholly. If he didn’t have JARVIS, he had no idea where he would be.

“I could schedule you some time,” said JARVIS.

Tony smiled even though he felt like crying. “Sure. You go ahead and do that, J. My next free week, you pencil in a whole week for me to be in my headspace. When would that be?”

There was a long pause.

Then JARVIS said, “That would be in 2022, Sir.”

“Of course it is,” Tony said with a laugh, but only so he didn’t cry.

If he started crying now, there was no way he was going to be able to stop.

He left the bathroom and looked at his bed. There was no point in putting fresh sheets on it now since he’d just have to take them back off to put on the mattress protector. And he didn’t dare lay down to sleep without the protector: if he couldn’t control his bladder or bowels while awake, he _definitely_ couldn’t do it while he was sleeping. He didn’t need people wondering why Tony Stark was buying a new mattress.

What he really wanted a warm bottle of milk, a story, and to fall asleep in someone’s arms.

What he got was a glass of cold water and then heading for the elevator to go back to work for a while.

When the doors opened, however, it was to Steve. In the split second before Steve looked up, Tony wondered what god hated him so much that they would force him to see his soulmate _now_. 

“Oh! Tony!” Steve said in surprise.

“Uh… Hi?” Tony said, self-consciously straightening up. He couldn’t help checking to make sure the hem of his sweatshirt was pulled down low enough to cover the waistband of his sweatpants. It was, thank god. No matter how good the design of his boxer-brief-pull-ups were, he didn’t want anyone getting a good look at them just in case.

“What are you doing up so early?” Steve asked, cocking his head and moving so that there was plenty of space for Tony in the elevator. Tony slowly edged inside, wrapping his arms around himself and keeping as much distance between him and Steve as possible.

When he was tired like this, he felt like the word _Little_ was stamped across his forehead.

“Nothing,” Tony said without thinking.

Steve gave him an odd look. “Aren’t you tired? Didn’t you only go to bed after midnight?”

Tony blinked. “How do you know that?” he asked suspiciously, wondering if Steve was paying a little too much attention to him. If he was, Tony might have to move back to Malibu for a while –

“Natasha, Clint and I were watching a movie late last night. Clint asked JARVIS where you were, and JARVIS said you were working,” Steve said easily as the elevator doors swished shut. It was such a reasonable explanation, and Tony started to feel a little foolish. He was so unused to people being in his space that he was getting paranoid, and the other Avengers had only been there for like a week. He decided he needed to offer Steve something better than ‘nothing’.

“Actually, Pepper and I have a meeting this morning,” he lied, fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “At 5am?”

“Different time zones,” Tony replied. “It’s 5am here, but it’s 10am in… France.” He had no idea whether that was true or not, but it sounded right and it was unlikely that Steve would know enough to counter it.

Sure enough, Steve nodded and said, “Your life sounds complicated.”

“You have no idea,” Tony said with a tight smile, folding his arms over the arc reactor. Paranoid or not, he was going to have to be a little more careful. Any reasonable person would wonder why Tony was going to a business meeting in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. 

“I was just going for a run,” Steve went on as the elevator doors swished open to reveal Tony’s workshop. “Have a great meeting, Tony!”

“Thanks,” Tony said, quickly sliding out. The doors shut and whisked Steve away, and Tony turned towards the workshop before a thought made him stop.

Just what was _Steve_ doing up at 5am for a jog after going to bed after midnight?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when the team had the potential to be a family? I miss that...

"I'm sorry."

"Shit!" Tony jumped about a foot in the air and grabbed at his chest; it was a damn good thing he was wearing a pull-up, because he might have just wet himself. He spun around, more than a little terrified, to see that the speaker had been Natasha. She had been leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for Tony to emerge from the workshop, and now she pushed herself off the wall and straightened up.

"I won't say it a second time, so I hope you heard me,” she announced.

"Sorry for what? Trying to scare me half to death? I do have a heart condition, you know," Tony said crossly, one hand resting protectively over his chest. He turned his body slightly so that Natasha wouldn't be able to see as he patted at his butt, making sure that none of the urine had seeped through the pull-up. Luckily, his jeans still felt dry.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. "I wouldn't have to scare you if you didn't hide away down here and avoid us all," she pointed out.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm a busy person with a ton of stuff to do," Tony objected, which was honestly only half-true. He had been avoiding the three of them a little bit, but only because he didn't know Barton, felt uncomfortable around Natasha, and was awkward around Steve. It was easier to remain in the workshop where he could at least be useful between Iron Man upgrades, the work he had to do for Stark Industries, and everything else on his massively long list.

She didn't look convinced. "That was my apology for lying to you," she said. "I know it weirds people out when I infiltrate their lives as a spy, even though it's my job. I also stabbed you in the neck, which I'm told is impolite… even though doing so saved your life."

Tony made a face at her. "This might just be the worst apology I've ever heard."

Natasha shrugged. "I never said it was a _good_ apology."

His frown deepened, but honestly Natasha's attempts at looking contrite were surprisingly cute and it was hard to stay mad. Finally, Tony sighed. "Okay, fine. Apology accepted. I guess. Is your name really Natasha?"

"It's the name I go by most commonly," she replied.

"That's not much of an answer," Tony muttered, but he realized that it was the best answer he was going to get. He eyed her speculatively. He honestly didn't know much about Natasha Romanov. Even the SHIELD file that JARVIS had dug up didn't have much information on her. Tony had her pegged as a Dom, _maybe_ a Master. Her presence was too commanding for her to be a Pet, Little, or Sub, and she didn't feel like a Caregiver. It was possible she was Baseline, but unlikely.

"Whatever. You gonna come upstairs and eat with us or not?" Natasha said. "If you don't, I'll send Steve down here to bring you up."

Tony tensed a little. "Why would you do that?" he asked, maybe a little too quickly.

Natasha gave him a weird look. "Because Steve is weirdly good at getting his way? He has a great set of puppy eyes."

"Oh," Tony said lamely. He forced a laugh. "I'm impervious to puppy eyes."

"Right," Natasha said slowly, and Tony had to fight the urge to facepalm.

He'd spent the past twenty-odd years successfully hiding the fact that he was a Little and that Captain America was one of his soulmates, but at this rate those two secrets were going to be blown within with the next five minutes. He desperately needed to chill out.

"Sure, I'll come up," Tony said, hoping that would be enough to distract her from the momentary weirdness, and Natasha actually smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that brightened her green eyes. 

"Great, let's go," she said, jerking her thumb at the elevator, and Tony remembered that he was in desperate need of a change.

"I'm just gonna run up and shower," he said, lifting his arm and taking an exaggerated whiff of his armpit. "I'm pretty stinky."

Natasha crinkled her nose and muttered something under her breath about boys. Tony pretended not to hear as he went to the elevator; when he looked back, Natasha was gone and the door to the stairs was swinging shut. He smirked to himself and stepped inside.

Once he'd showered and pulled on a fresh pull-up and had checked about a dozen times to make sure that his sweatshirt covered the soul mark on his shoulder, he made his way back downstairs. His heart was thudding from nerves as the doors swished open. This time he smelled Chinese food instead of pizza, but it was no less appetizing. Despite his growling stomach, Tony strongly considered retreating back upstairs. Every ounce of him was telling him that this was a bad idea and that it was going to lead to a disaster -

"There you are! Finally! Get your ass in here so we can eat!" Barton exclaimed, leaning out of the kitchen. Tony blinked at him. The last time he'd seen Barton, the man had been pale and hollow-eyed and sullen in his silence. Barton looked a hell of a lot better now, wearing what appeared to be a comfortable pair of pajamas and a smile.

"Uh... what?" Tony said, baffled.

"Steve said we couldn't eat without you." Bruce stuck his head out of the kitchen.

Tony's jaw dropped. "Bruce?! When did you get here?" he said, flabbergasted. Bruce had returned to the tower with Tony for about five minutes following the Battle, before he suddenly announced that he couldn't do this and took off again. Tony had honestly not expected to see Bruce Banner ever again - which had really sucked, because it wasn't very often that Tony found someone who he could talk science with.

"Just this morning," Bruce said, suddenly looking a bit shy. "I thought - well, I wanted to see if the offer to stay here was still open."

"Of course it is," Tony said automatically. Even if he didn't want Bruce here, it would've been really rude to refuse to let Bruce stay when Natasha, Steve and Barton were all here. 

Bruce smiled at him. "Thanks Tony."

"But... I thought you didn't want to stay in New York," Tony added, still confused.

"I didn't, but then I realized... well, maybe it wouldn't be right to take off again so soon," Bruce said mysteriously, which cleared up exactly nothing, but Tony decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was too excited over the fact that Bruce had decided to stick around for at least a little while.

"Come on! The food is getting cold!" Steve called out.

"Yes Dad," Barton muttered, which made Bruce chuckled. Tony smiled awkwardly. 

In another life, maybe _he_ would've been the one calling Steve "Dad"...

Wait.

Where had that thought come from?

"Tony, let's go," Bruce said, jerking his thumb towards the kitchen.

Tony nodded and quickly moved forward. Natasha and Steve were already sitting at the table. Barton and Bruce joined them. Tony was slower to approach, sliding into the only empty chair and looking around. The only Avenger who was missing now was Thor, who of course had taken his brother back to the Asgard. They had no idea when or if Thor was going to return; Thor had said something vague about responsibilities on Asgard, which had made Loki roll his eyes, but Thor had seemed serious, so it was hard to know just what was going on there.

What was Tony doing?

He was sitting at the table with two spies, a doctor, and one of his soulmates.

Literally the four worst people to be trying to keep one huge secret from, never mind two.

Especially when his stupid brain was doing things like thinking about Steve like _that_.

He opened his mouth to make an excuse -

"Here, Tony. Do you like beef and broccoli? You should take some before the bottomless pit over there eats it all," Steve said, leaning over to him with a food carton in hand. He quickly spooned some beef and broccoli onto Tony's plate.

Barton pouted. "I take offence to the fact that you're calling _me_ the bottomless pit when you can eat three extra large pizzas yourself and still be hungry afterwards."

"Ah, but I'm a supersolider and that makes me special," Steve said with a smirk. "Just for that, you're not getting any beef and broccoli. Tony and I will eat it all." He hugged the carton to his chest.

"What?!" Barton squawked. "Tony... Dude..." He turned puppy eyes on Tony.

There were two ways this could go now.

Tony could get up and leave, but he had the feeling that that would ruin his chances with the Avengers forever.

That would probably be the best thing to do.

But as he looked around at the smiling, relaxed faces around him, Tony couldn't bring himself to go.

He _wanted_ this.

Whatever this was, he wanted it.

So, as he had so many times during his life, he ignored his common sense and wrapped a protective arm around his plate, sticking his tongue out at Barton - no, at Clint. Fighting over Chinese food definitely left you on a first-name basis.

"Betrayal!" Clint exclaimed, looking wounded.

"You're all idiots," Natasha muttered into her carton of sweet and sour pork.

"Hey, I resent that," Bruce objected, stabbing an egg roll with one chopstick. He held up the speared egg roll and bit into it.

Natasha watched him do that with a disgusted look. "I beg to differ."

"If I can't have any beef and broccoli, then I'm eating all the chicken balls," Clint declared.

"I will fight you for that carton," Natasha warned him.

"Bring it, Red," Clint said, copying Tony and sticking his tongue out.

Steve facepalmed. "What did I tell you two about having a fight at the table?"

Tony smiled to himself, picking up a piece of food with his fingers and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, watching Natasha and Clint bicker with each other. This might be dangerous in the long run, and he'd have to be really careful, but in the meantime it was okay. Simple, but meaningful, camaraderie. He could let himself have that, right? It wasn't very often that people wanted Tony Stark around. He supposed he should enjoy this moment while it lasted.


	7. Chapter 7

It was another few days before Tony caught Barton by himself. He didn't know where the others were, but, when he returned home late one afternoon, Barton was the only one sitting on the living room couch. Tony debated with himself for a moment as he loosened his tie, wondering if he wanted to open this can of worms - but honestly, he was curious and it didn't seem like he was going to be able to figure it out without asking, so...

"Did you tell Steve to apologize to me?" he asked.

Barton popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and nodded. "Yup."

"Why?" Tony asked, successfully pulling the knot free. He sighed as he took the tie off and unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his shirt. Not enough to let the arc reactor show, but enough to feel like there was some cooler air against his flushed skin. After a few hours stuffed into a hot room, it felt good.

"Why not?" Barton said lightly. "He was being a jerk. That's usually what people do when they're being jerks."

Tony frowned slightly. "Not when they're being jerks to me," he muttered. Usually the only apologies in Tony's life were the ones he was giving, either because he'd made a mistake or - more likely - someone else had perceived that he'd made a mistake. He had mastered the concept of an unapologetic apology when he was just a kid.

Barton eyed for him a moment, then shook his head. "Steve comes from a time when everything was pretty cut and dry," he said quietly. "You were either a good guy or a bad guy; there was no in between. He's still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it's not like that anymore. There are bad guys out there who can be oozing with charisma and charm." 

Instantly, Obadiah Stane flashed through Tony's mind and he swallowed hard. Stane was the very definition of what Barton was talking about. Tony had learned that first-hand.

"But then there are good guys who are jerks, or who be arrogant, or cocky, or what have you," Barton went on. He tossed another piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth. "Steve will figure that out soon enough, but, in the meantime, I figured he could use a hand in knowing who was bad and who was good."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Not too many people would put me on the good list. SHIELD wouldn't."

"Yeah, well, I don't know too many bad guys who would go on a suicide mission like you did," Barton replied. "You didn't even hesitate to take that missile through the portal, even though anyone would've told you that there was no coming back."

"It could've been for selfish reasons. I would've died had that missile hit too," Tony pointed out.

Barton snorted. "Why are you trying so hard to convince me that you're not a good person?" He wanted to know.

"I'm not," Tony said quickly, belatedly realizing that that was, in fact, what he was doing. He wouldn’t have said as much to Barton, but by now it was a habit.

Outside of his very small circle of friends, _no one_ thought that Tony was a good person. Because of that, people didn’t actively try to get closer to him and that made it easier for Tony to keep his secrets. Aside from that, it was too hard to dissuade people of the notion that he wasn’t everything the media had made him out to be. It was just… easier to let them think what they wanted.

"Sure," Barton said skeptically. "I dunno, I just thought that it would be better for the team if we could all start off on the right foot. Sometimes stupid little things can become bigger things until it all spirals out of control, and then there's no way of fixing it." He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

"Well... thank you, I guess," Tony said awkwardly. "I wasn't expecting Steve to be the one to reach out like that, but it was nice."

Barton shrugged. "He's the team captain, so it should be him. Although if you ask me, Steve is going to need our support in return. Fury did a shitty job of introducing Steve to the twenty-first century. That guy has no sweet clue what's going on."

"That's not surprising," Tony said. He could just imagine what Fury would consider to be important. Frankly, it was a miracle that Steve wasn’t locked up in a room somewhere.

"Right? It's actually kind of appalling," Barton said, shaking his head. This time he grabbed a whole handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth. He mumbled something through the popcorn, but Tony couldn't hear it.

"Barton, manners," Tony said, making a face.

"Call me Clint," Barton said once he'd swallowed his food. "And I said that I think the Avengers could really be something, but it's not going to happen if we all stick our heads in the sand and go our separate ways. We actually have to work like a team, and part of that means learning to trust each other."

"Who told you that?" Tony asked.

"Coulson," Clint said, and grinned. "That's what he used to tell me all the time back when I first joined up with SHIELD. I used to get sick of hearing him go on and on about trust and how important it was when it came to the field, but honestly the guy was right, and he knew it. I can't think of a single mission where I didn't have to trust Coulson in some way, and I think the Avengers are going to be even bigger than that... so it stands to reason that trust will be even more important."

Tony contemplated that for a moment before nodding slowly. "I guess that makes sense."

"And along those lines, if you wanted to tell Steve, Natasha, and Bruce that you're really a Little, I'm sure they'd be fine with it."

Tony choked.

He wasn't even eating anything, but he inhaled sharply, and some saliva went down the wrong tube.

He then promptly went into a coughing fit that was partly a fight for breath and partly a panic attack.

"Shit!" Clint yelped somewhere in the distance. "Dude, please don't die. Steve will kill me _dead_ if you die."

"I'm - I'm not dying," Tony wheezed out, even though he felt like it. He spotted a half-empty can of soda on the coffee table and grabbed it. He didn't usually drink soda, so the sharp bite of the bubbles helped to clear his head a bit. 

Clint was watching him with wide, worried eyes. "Are you sure? Should I get Steve? Should I get Bruce?"

Tony wanted to demand to know why Clint would bother calling Steve, but what came out of his mouth was, "How did you know?"

And then he immediately cursed himself because there went any chance of plausible deniability.

"I didn't know for sure, but you just confirmed it," Clint said, and Tony cursed himself inwardly.

Damn spies.

"What do you want?" he asked resignedly.

Clint cocked his head. "What?"

"What do you want?" Tony repeated. "To keep quiet, what do you want? Money? It's always money." He sighed and reached into his pocket, looking for his wallet. "I don't have a lot of cash on me right now, but -"

"Whoa, hey!" Clint said, dropping the popcorn bowl in his haste to get his hands up in the universal 'stop' motion. The bowl slid to the ground. They both watched the popcorn spill everywhere in silence.

Then Tony said, "You get to clean that up before Steve starts lecturing us about keeping the place clean."

"Sure, whatever. Look. I don't want anything from you. I'm not going to tell anyone," Clint said. He was watching Tony closely. Too closely. The scrutiny made Tony really uncomfortable.

It had been a very long time since anyone had been able to see this deeply into him.

"I find that hard to believe. This is prime blackmail material," Tony said. "I know you know that."

"I do, but consider that if I planned to tell anyone, I could've gone to the media like three weeks ago and not even said anything to you before I did," Clint pointed out.

Tony sank back against the couch. "You've known that long?"

"Suspected," Clint corrected. "I didn't know for sure, like I said. It was just a guess. It takes one to know one sometimes."

"Wait, you're a Little?" Tony said, stunned. He'd pegged Clint as a Baseline, _maybe_ a Master if he was stretching it.

But a Little?

It just didn't compute.

Clint was nodding, though. "Yeah, I am. It's one of SHIELD's lesser-known secrets. They weren't sure about recruiting me at first because of it, but Coulson told them that I was too skilled a marksman for them to pass me by. I had to undergo a ton of testing at first, and it took me ages to prove myself, but in the end it was worth it."

"Wow," Tony said softly, a little amazed.

"I know. It's pretty cool. I'm one of the only Littles employed by SHIELD, and the only one who is an agent. I'm pretty special." Clint grinned and winked at him. "Though it helps that my handler is also my caregiver."

"Wait. Coulson's a Caregiver?" Tony said, dazed. This was more revelations than his brain was prepared to handle. 

"Not what you expected, huh? I always tell Coulson that he's exactly what all those agents need. They know how to ignore a Dom and a Master, but few people are good at saying no to a Caregiver when they break out the mommy or daddy voice," Clint said wisely. "Coulson is fantastic at guilting people into following the rules and doing what he needs them to do."

"Wait. Is that why they sent Coulson to me?" Tony said, thoroughly horrified by the thought that SHIELD might know about him.

But Clint was shaking his head. "No, I can tell you that Fury and Natasha don't know which means that no one else at SHIELD does. They sent Coulson to you because he's known for his patience, and they though6t he was the least likely to try and shoot you."

"He threatened to taze me," Tony admitted.

Clint laughed. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He was smiling affectionately, and all Tony could do was look at him. Nothing about this conversation had gone the way he thought it would. Not only did Clint know that he was a Little, Clint was also a Little _and_ Coulson, of all people, was a Caregiver. 

"This is a lot," he said.

"I bet. Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all of this on you tonight," Clint said apologetically. "I just... I guess i wanted you to know that you weren't alone."

A strange feeling passed through Tony's chest that left him breathless, but this time it had nothing to do with the arc reactor.

He had _always_ been alone.

So what was he supposed to do with this now?


	8. Chapter 8

They passed the next few minutes in silence, mostly because Tony didn't know what to say. Eventually, Clint got up and started gathering the spilled popcorn back into the bowl. Tony watched him mutter to himself and pick the smaller kernels out of the carpet. He probably should have been down there helping Clint out - that would have been the kind thing to do, at any rate - but his brain felt like it was frantically trying and failing to reboot itself.

Clint knew about him.

Clint was also a Little.

Coulson was a Caregiver.

Okay, that last one Tony could sort of wrap his head around. Now that he stopped to think about Coulson in that context, it made sense. Coulson did have a very fatherly vibe to him, even if Tony would never admit that to the agent's face. He also had a seemingly infinite amount of patience in spite of his threats. This wouldn't be the first time that Tony had heard of Caregivers taking on similar positions; Rhodey had told him once that some of the Air Force's best higher-ups were Caregivers. 

Clint being a Little was a little bit tougher to swallow, but honestly Tony didn't know him that well. It did seem a little unlikely that SHIELD would be willing to give a Little a chance as an agent, but Clint also clearly had an adult headspace that he was very comfortable in. Plus, from what Tony had seen during the battle, Clint really was a very accomplished archer. SHIELD would've been idiots to pass by that kind of marksmanship just because Clint was a Little, and Nick Fury was a lot of things, but an idiot wasn't one of them.

But Clint knowing about Tony...

That just made Tony feel sick to his stomach. He had spent so long keeping that bit of information under wraps. He'd sacrificed so much. Pushed so many people away. Built up so many rumors. Tarnished his own reputation.

With just a few words to the right people, Clint could ruin all of that.

He'd said he wouldn't, but... 

Tony didn't know if he could really trust that.

And even if he did decide to trust Clint, it would be _so easy_ for Clint to slip.

Just the wrong word to the right person could irrevocably screw Tony over forever. People wouldn't even need to know whether or not it was the truth: once the rumor that Tony Stark was a Little got started, Tony would never get any peace. He would forever have to live under the shadow of that, even more paranoid than before that someone might see something. He didn't think he could live like that. Just the thought of it made him want to break down into tears.

"You're kind of white," Clint said worriedly, setting the bowl on the coffee table. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Tony said hoarsely, even though he was anything but. His head was spinning, and he swallowed hard, tasting vomit.

"Yeah, I'm calling Bruce and Steve," Clint decided.

"No! Don't, I'm fine," Tony snapped, more firmly than before. "I just - I need you to swear that you won't tell anyone." He stood up and grabbed Clint's arm. "And I mean _anyone_. I'll give you whatever you want. Money. Upgrades to your arrows and armor. Whatever you want, it's yours." He stared into Clint's face, hearing the desperation in his own voice but helpless to stop it. 

Was this what it was like to be blackmailed?

Suddenly Tony could identify with a lot of movie characters.

"Hey," Clint said, clapping his free hand down on Tony's shoulder.

The shoulder with Tony's soul mark.

He froze.

"You don't need to worry. I won't tell anyone," Clint said, apparently thinking that Tony was just listening to him really intently. "I'm a spy, remember? I'm pretty damn good at knowing what I can and can't say. That's my job."

Tony searched his face, trying to figure out if Clint was serious or not.

It seemed like he was, but how could Tony be sure?

He couldn't. The realization settled around Tony's shoulders like a heavy blanket. He _couldn't_ be completely sure that Clint wouldn't tell. All he could do was believe Clint and hope for the best.

Or maybe...

Maybe he should make some upgrades for Clint? He could do it for the rest of the team at the same time. Clint didn't have to know that the upgrades doubled as bribes. Tony could just say that it was for the betterment of the Avengers that they all be as well outfitted as they could possibly be. None of them had to know that the better Clint Barton thought of Tony Stark, the less likely it would be that Clint would slip up.

"Okay," Tony said finally, trying to act like he believed what Clint was saying. "Thanks. I guess."

"No problem. Now could you let go? You're hurting me," Clint said, not unkindly, and Tony instantly let go.

"Shit, sorry," he said, a bit horrified to see that he'd been gripping Clint's arm so hard that his nails had left imprints in Clint's skin.

Clint just smiled at him. "It's okay. I guess I kind of deserve it for springing this on you out of the blue. If Coulson were here, he'd be giving me a lecture about tact and how there are better ways to approach people about stuff than just dumping in on them."

"How is Coulson?" Tony said, because that seemed like the polite thing to say.

"He's doing okay. Came through the surgery just fine. He has a long recuperation ahead of him, but that's much better than the alternative," Clint said. He seemed surprisingly calm for a Little whose Caregiver had come within minutes of dying, but Tony supposed that maybe that was an agent thing. 

"That's good," Tony said.

"Yeah, it is," Clint said, nodding. "So... anyway, part of the reason why I brought this up to you is that I wanted to let you know that I could cover for you if you wanted to go stay with Rhodes for a while."

Tony blinked, utterly baffled. "Umm.... what? Why would I go stay with Rhodey?" He could not figure out how Clint had made the jump from Coulson to Rhodey.

Clint blinked back. "He's your caregiver, isn't he?"

"What? Rhodey?" Tony had to laugh a little at the thought. "God no. I mean yeah, he pulled my butt out of a few fires when we were in university together, but he's not a Caregiver. He's a Master." And a very happy Master at that. Though he didn't have a girlfriend, he did have a few female friends that he visited for a good time every now and again.

"Oh," Clint said, cocking his head. "I just assumed that it was him because you spent so much time with him. I know it's not Potts. So who is it, then?"

Tony could have, should have, lied, but apparently all his common sense had jumped out the window because he said, "I don't have one."

"Wait. What?" Clint said, his smile fading.

"What?" Tony parroted back. This conversation had gone in so many unexpected directions that he was starting to lose track of it all, and now his head was starting to ache.

"You don't have a Caregiver?" Clint said, eyes wide.

"No," Tony said.

"That's - but like - you..." Clint's mouth opened and closed a few times.

Tony folded his arms over his chest, feeling judged. "When I say that no one else knows, I mean that _no one else knows_. That includes Rhodey and Pepper. You are literally the only person who has ever figured it out."

"Holy shit," Clint breathed, looking at Tony like Tony had suddenly stripped naked and started dancing. "Suddenly, a lot of things make sense."

"They do not," Tony said with a scowl. He wasn't sure what that meant, but it couldn't be good.

"So wait, who takes care of you when you go into your headspace?" Clint asked.

"I take care of myself," said Tony, not without a slight sense of pride. "JARVIS helps."

Clint pursed his lips. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. The expression on his face spoke volumes. Tony's scowl deepened and he decided that this conversation had run its course.

"It's not a big deal. I've never had anyone I could trust," he said. There was, of course, the other side of that equation - Tony had never once met anyone who would _want_ to take care of him just because. He had learned pretty early on in life that everyone wanted something from him: money, fame, power. No one ever did things for Tony just because they wanted to, or because they loved him. There was always a reason, and those reasons were too materialistic and fickle for Tony to want to rely on them.

"What if you could find someone?" Clint asked. 

"I couldn't," Tony said, retrieving his tie from where it hung on the back of the couch.

"But what if you could?" Clint persisted.

Tony sighed and looked at him. "Let me tell you something," he said wearily. "I have a very tiny circle of people I can trust, and even those people don't know this about me. When you are a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist superhero, people will _always_ want something from you. My reputation is the only thing that protects me, because when I'm in my Little headspace I don't have a way to protect myself. It would be a very easy way for someone to take advantage of me, and I can't let that happen. I just can't. I would rather be alone forever than _ever_ let someone see me that way."

Clint frowned at him. "Who hurt you?"

"Too many to count," Tony said bitterly, thinking about people like Obadiah Stane, Sunset Bane, and Tiberius Stone. "Enough to know that it's not worth it."

He turned on his heel and left, not wanting to hear whatever sob story that Clint was going to tell him. People, Pepper included, had been telling him for years that he should be more open and trusting, but they didn't just get it. No one had bothered to even try to protect Tony Stark since Jarvis had died, so that meant he had to protect himself. Clint could say whatever he wanted about Tony not being alone, but it wasn’t true. Tony was always alone, and he was going to stay that way.

Because if that was what it took to protect him by keeping everyone at arm's length to guard his secrets, then that was the way it had to be. There was no happy ending for people like him.


	9. Chapter 9

“Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting access to your floor.”

“What?” Tony mumbled. “Why?”

“He says he is concerned about you. He has some food with him.” That was definitely a note of approval in JARVIS’s voice, and Tony rolled his eyes even though he knew JARVIS wouldn’t be able to see it.

The conversation with Clint had given him a pretty bad headache. Tony had tried to sleep it off, as he knew the headache was from a combination of exhaustion and stress, but had quickly realized that there was no way he was going to be able to do that. Instead he’d spent half an hour running over every word of his and Clint’s talk, which only served to stress him out even more. He’d finally given up and was now laying in bed with a wet cloth draped over his face to block out the light. 

“Tell him to go away,” Tony said after thinking about it for a few seconds. He was too rattled right now to really talk to anyone.

“I’m afraid he’s already on his way to your room,” JARVIS said.

“What?! JARVIS!” Tony squealed, shooting upright and casting a frantic look around his room. Usually there were a couple of pacifiers on his nightstand or a package of diapers on the floor. He didn’t see any diapers, but he did have to yank open the drawer of his nightstand to sweep the pacifiers inside – and just in time.

“Tony?” There was a gentle knock on the door. “Clint told me that you weren’t feeling well. I brought you up some soup and some pain medication that Bruce said should help. Could I come in?”

Tony shot a murderous look towards the ceiling, inwardly sighing. It would be rude to send Steve away now, plus doing so would just would make things awkward later on. Plus, he thought he knew Steve well enough to know that Steve probably wouldn’t go away even if Tony told him to. Steve could be unfairly stubborn sometimes. The last thing Tony needed was Steve trying to get Bruce up here too.

So he sighed and said, “Yeah, sure.”

The door opened a crack at first, though Steve quickly pushed it all the way open. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and holding a loaded tray. There was concern written all over his face, and in spite of himself Tony’s traitorous heart skipped a beat because he knew that concern was all for _him_.

In another life, maybe he could have had this all the time…

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, keeping his voice soft. 

“It’s just a migraine,” Tony said.

“That’s what Bruce said. Here, he said these would help.” Steve set the tray on Tony’s now empty nightstand and picked up a couple of white pills. Tony glanced at them quickly, realizing that they were his usual migraine medicine. Either Bruce was an excellent guesser, or JARVIS had been gossiping.

He took the pills and swallowed them with the help of the glass of water that Steve passed to him. The water was cool and refreshing, helping to wash away the sticky-sweet taste of the soda he’d gulped down earlier. 

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

A small smile quirked Steve’s face. “You’re welcome. Will food upset your stomach?”

“No, it should be okay,” Tony said, peering at the tray. It looked like chicken soup. 

“Good. Here, lean back.” Steve carefully set the tray on Tony’s lap when Tony obeyed. “I hope you like it; I got it from the deli down the street. JARVIS said it was your favorite.”

“I’m sure he did,” Tony muttered. He was definitely going to be having a talk with JARVIS later on. He dipped the spoon into the soup and lifted it to his lips, taking a cautious sip. It was warm and lightly spiced, just the way Tony liked it. He could feel a little of the tension in his shoulders easing as he swallowed. 

“Good?” Steve asked, smiling.

“Very good, thanks,” Tony said again. He was expecting Steve to leave, but Steve didn’t. Instead, Steve sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Do you get migraines a lot?” Steve asked and okay, apparently this was a thing they were now doing. 

Well, Tony supposed that it was one way to get a better relationship going between him and Steve. He hadn’t spent much time with the rest of the team yet, and he needed to be in Steve’s good graces if he was ever going to stop being a consultant and start being a full member of the Avengers. Plus, it wasn’t like Steve was terrible company right now. He was better than Clint or JARVIS, at any rate.

So Tony said, “I wouldn’t say a lot. They’re usually brought on by changes in the atmosphere, like when a storm rolls in, or stress. They run in my mom’s family.”

“That sucks,” Steve said, a frown tugging at his mouth. 

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “It is what it is. I usually take some pain meds, put a cold cloth on my forehead, and try to sleep it off.”

“Oh… sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your sleep,” Steve said, looking at something to Tony’s right. Tony looked down automatically and spotted the damp cloth that had been on his face now laying beside his pillow in a soggy heap. He picked it up and set it on the tray.

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep,” Tony replied. “I was thinking about a meeting Pepper and I had this afternoon.” That was a lie, but he wasn’t about to tell Steve that this was because of his conversation with Clint. Then Steve would want to know what they’d been talking about, and that was a slippery slope that Tony wanted to stay very far away from. He wasn’t thinking straight enough to make up good lies.

“A bad meeting?” Steve asked. 

“Not bad, exactly. There’s just a lot going on right now.” Tony ate a couple more spoonful’s of soup before realizing that Steve was waiting for him to elaborate, so he added, “The Board of S.I. is easily spooked and right now our stocks aren’t doing so great. Crazy to think that people might need to pull their money out of the stock market right after the city was devastated by an alien attack, am I right?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, that’s a real shocker. But it won’t hurt Stark Industries, will it?”

“Nah. S.I. has ridden out way worse things than this. Give it a few more months and everything will bounce back. This is just a state of uncertainty right now,” Tony said confidently. “Pepper and I have also been spending a lot of time working on the Maria Stark Foundation.”

“What’s that? I’ve never heard of it,” Steve said, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s, ah, a foundation that my mom started and which I kept going after she died. Basically, it helps out impoverished women and children. But in times like this, we try to help everyone who needs it. Right now, that’s a lot of people,” Tony said softly. The Foundation was legally a separate entity from Stark Industries, and Tony had people who ran it, but sometimes he and Pepper got pulled in when things were especially dire. This was one of those times.

“Wow,” Steve said. He seemed impressed and that made Tony a bit uncomfortable. He shrugged and hunched over his soup, devoting himself to eating the rest quickly.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Tony thought that Steve might leave, but he didn’t. He was looking around Tony’s bedroom like there was something interesting to look at, even though there wasn’t. Since this was originally a guest room that Tony was just crashing in until he could figure out how to get the top floors restored, the room’s decorations were pretty dull.

Finally, Steve cleared his throat. “So… I feel like I need to learn a little more about the future. SHIELD showed me a few things, and Natasha and Clint have been trying, but Bruce suggested I ask you. He said you know more about the future than anyone and could give me some good places to start.”

Tony gently set the spoon down in the empty bowl, surprised. “Bruce said that?”

“Yeah. He said you’d be able to tell me what I need to know, or at least give me a good place to start,” Steve said, looking at Tony with a hopeful expression.

In spite of everything, that look tugged at Tony’s heart. He’d spent years hating Captain America, and his first impression of Cap had only served to underscore that hatred.

But now there was this: just a man in an uncomfortably new t-shirt with messy hair and blue puppy eyes.

Turns out Captain America wasn’t the pinnacle of human evolution that all others were to be measured, and failed, against after all.

He was just a guy who was lost and in need of some guidance.

“Sure,” Tony said. “I could do that. There’s a lot you’ve missed out on, but we can start with the basics.”

Steve was the kind of guy who smiled with his whole face. “Really?”

“Really,” Tony said, ignoring the little jolt of warmth in his belly. Steve was happy. Happy with Tony. He approved of Tony right now, and Tony – Tony liked that feeling a little too much. That wasn’t good. 

“Great! I thought you might be too busy. I didn’t want to take away from your time,” Steve said.

Tony shrugged, wondering what he’d gotten himself into, and said, “Even geniuses like me need some time to decompress once in a while, Cap.”

“Right, of course,” Steve said quickly, looking abashed. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you didn’t.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, a little amused. Maybe at one time he would’ve taken that the wrong way, but he could tell that Steve didn’t mean anything by it. He was just as clumsy with his words and actions as anyone else.

He moved to set the tray on the nightstand. Steve quickly jumped up and took the tray from him so that Tony didn’t have to stretch as far. Tony let him do it. 

“I should go,” Steve said, even though he clearly didn’t want to. “Let you rest.”

But Tony shook his head and patted the bed. “My head feels better now. Sit back down. Let’s talk television.”


	10. Chapter 10

Things slowly settled into a little bit of a rhythm over the next month or so. Tony did his best to avoid Clint, and by extension Natasha since he was a little worried that she would also notice what Clint had figured out so easily, and in the process ended up spending more time with Steve and Bruce. But as time went on, and Clint kept his promise not to out Tony to anyone, Tony found himself beginning to relax.

And of course, that was when everything got shaken up again.

It started with Bruce cooking them breakfast one morning, because that was a thing now that Bruce liked to do, and Tony was never one to pass up a free meal from someone who was actually really good at cooking. Steve was hanging over Bruce’s shoulder, avidly watching as Bruce carefully ladled some mix into a frying pan, when his phone rang. Still watching Bruce, Steve took his phone out of his pocket and put it to ear.

“Hello?” he said, and Tony felt a small flash of pride. No one would know it to look at him, but five weeks ago Steve hadn’t even known what a cell phone was. Now, he was adept enough at using one that no one would think he’d been born a hundred years ago.

“You gonna eat that?” Clint said, distracting Tony.

“Yes,” Tony said firmly, wrapping an arm around his plate and the sole croissant laying on it. Natasha had brought home two dozen. Steve, Clint, and Bruce had already polished off most of them. Clint wasn’t brave enough or stupid enough to go after the two on Natasha’s plate, but apparently Tony’s plate was fair game.

“You’re such a piglet,” Natasha said. “Leave Tony alone.”

Tony looked at her in surprise, but she was frowning at Clint. 

Clint made a face back at her. “Just because you think Tony is a skinny cutie in need of your protection doesn’t mean he needs a whole croissant to himself.”

“A skinny _what_?!” Tony said.

“I will stab you if you touch his plate,” Natasha warned at the same time.

“Wait, what?!” Steve said, so loud that all three of them fell silent. Clint stopped trying to get at Tony’s croissant and Natasha stopped trying to stab Clint. Bruce paused in the midst of flipping his latest creation. They all turned to look at Steve in surprise.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony noticed that Clint and Natasha were looking at each other with equally blank expressions. That told him that the two of them had no idea what was going on. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Steve didn’t know many people yet, and all of the Avengers except for Thor were sitting here in the same room. It had to be SHIELD calling, but why?

“Okay,” Steve said, still sounding shocked. “I – yeah. Yeah. Right. Okay.” He slowly brought the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a long moment.

“Steve?” Tony said. His voice came out small and uncertain.

Steve turned to him immediately, eyes wide, and said, “Bucky’s alive.”

“What?” Tony, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint all said simultaneously. Under any other circumstances, that would’ve been funny.

As it was, Tony could feel his stomach tightening and his heart sinking right through the floor.

“Bucky” could only be one person, after all.

“They found him – they said Hydra’s had him all this time,” Steve said. His hands clenched into fists, and his phone promptly shattered. Steve jumped and then opened his hand. They all watched the fragments of what had once been a top-of-the-line Starkphone hit the kitchen floor in silence.

“That’s insane,” Bruce said, stunned. “What else did they say?”

Steve shook his head. “Nothing much. Just that – that Bucky was asking to see me.” He looked at them all, shock slowly blooming into hope and wonder. “Bucky’s _alive_.”

“That’s incredible!” Clint exclaimed, jumping up. Natasha got up too, and she, Bruce, and Clint clustered around Steve.

Tony remained at the table alone. He folded his shaking hands into his lap where no one would see them, not that anyone was paying him any attention.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. There had never been anything but casual friendship between him and Steve. They’d become closer over the past couple weeks because they’d been spending time together both alone and with the others, but they were just friends – and Tony didn’t even know if they could call themselves that, or if maybe ‘acquaintances’ was a better word. 

Either way, that’s all there ever _could_ be; he had known that from day one.

So why did it feel a bit like someone had just shocked the arc reactor hard enough to take his breath away?

“You should go to SHIELD,” Tony heard himself say.

Natasha, Steve, Bruce, and Clint all looked at him. Some people might have quailed under all that attention, but Tony was pretty used to that.

“He wants to see you, right?” Tony said. “So you should go. Quickly, Cap! What are you hanging around here for?”

“I can drive you,” Natasha said, turning to Steve. 

“Right. Great, that would be great,” Steve said, snapping out of his initial shock. He smiled then, wide and bright, and Tony’s stomach hurt even worse.

“Great,” Tony said softly, watching as Steve and Natasha rushed out of the kitchen. He was vaguely aware of Clint shooting him a concerned look, but he pretended not to notice.

Bruce finished cooking breakfast, but of course there was way too much now without Steve there, and for some reason Tony didn’t feel like eating much. He ate a few tiny pieces of the croissant while Bruce and Clint chatted. He wasn’t really listening to them, so he was surprised when Bruce got up and left.

“Hey, are you okay?” Clint asked as soon as Bruce was gone.

“I’m fine,” Tony said automatically.

Clint frowned. “You know, you say that a lot.”

“Maybe I have to because people don’t listen when I say it the first time,” Tony said more sharply than he’d intended. Clint raised an eyebrow at him.

“So, you’re totally cool with the fact that Steve just ran off to see Bucky Barnes, his soulmate?” Clint asked in a voice that was trying way too hard to be casual.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like Steve and I are soulmates,” Tony said. Not like he and Bucky Barnes were soulmates too. For fuck’s sake. Tony had really gotten himself into a situation, hadn’t he?

“No,” Clint said slowly. “But I could see… you know.” He waved his hand like that was supposed to mean something.

“No, I don’t know,” Tony said, looking up at him. “What are you trying to imply?”

Clint shrugged. “Steve likes to take care of people. You need someone to take care of you.”

“First of all, Steve’s not a Caregiver. Second of all, I do not need someone to take care of me. I do just fine on my own,” Tony said angrily. “And even if I did need someone, which I don’t, that person would _not_ be Steve.” He didn't even want to think about the possibility of it being Steve, and he hated Clint for bringing it out into the open like this.

"It could have been Steve," Clint said, undeterred by Tony's reaction. "Or at least..." He looked at the door, frowning, then said again, "It could have been."

"No, it couldn't," Tony said, throwing his napkin down. He got up and stormed out of the room before Clint could respond, not wanting to hear whatever else Clint might have to say. So far as Tony was concerned, the facts were pretty obvious.

Number one, Steve was not a Caregiver. Number two, Steve was still trying to find his footing in the modern world and didn't need the responsibility of someone else on his shoulders. Number three, Tony didn't need a caregiver. Number four, Steve didn't - and would never - know Tony was a Little if Tony had anything to say about it. Number five, now there was Bucky Barnes being thrown into the mix. 

How would that change things?

The question niggled at the back of Tony's head for the remainder of the door no matter how much he tried to ignore it. The Avengers, minus Thor, had just begun to feel like something other than a ragtag group of people who'd nearly died together. Steve would, of course, want Bucky to come back to the tower. He wouldn't leave his dearest friend to the tender ministrations of the SHIELD. How was that going to change the already complicated dynamics of the team? Would they want Barnes to become an Avenger too? Would Barnes want that? Would Steve want to keep being an Avenger if Barnes didn't?

On top of all those questions swirling through his brain, it occurred to him that very shortly he was going to have to deal with having _both_ of his soulmates in close proximity. His stomach churned at the thought of that, and he waved away the coffee Pepper was offering him, which earned him an odd look from Pepper that he ignored.

Sometimes it felt like he could barely handle having Steve around.

Now he was going to have to deal with Barnes too.

It just wasn't fair. Tony had spent his whole life under the shadow of that "great love story" and now he was going to have to watch it all play out in real time two feet in front of his face. He had no interest in either Steve or Barnes in a romantic way, but that didn't mean it would be easy to watch the two of them be so close when Tony was forever destined to remain on the outside. 

That was the problem with soulmates. Even when someone was destined for you, it hardly ever ended the way fairy tales said that it would. Tony couldn't wait to have that fact rubbed into his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


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